


Fathers of the Year

by The_Queen_In_The_North



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, Jaime and Brienne are married, Sandor and Jaime Try Their Best, Sandor and Sansa are Married, Sansa and Brienne Need a Break, Their Daughter is the Spitting Image of Jaime, Their Daughter is the Spitting Image of Sandor, They are Great Daddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Queen_In_The_North/pseuds/The_Queen_In_The_North
Summary: To give their wives a much needed break, Sandor Clegane and Jaime Lannister get their daughters together for a day-long playdate.*Modern AU
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane & Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 27
Kudos: 141





	Fathers of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! For those waiting on me to finish Northbound or The Undate, both are coming! I promised myself I'd take Christmas Eve and Christmas off from writing, but after the wild couple days I've had with my kids (ages 3 and 4), I couldn't stop myself from writing this. It was written in one (late) evening so please forgive me for any errors you may find! Consider it a last-minute gift to you all for the holidays. 
> 
> I'll get back to working on my other stories starting tomorrow. : )
> 
> Enjoy! ♥

His wife walked into the bedroom with her eyes closed, dragging her feet, then collapsed face first onto the bed and groaned.

Sandor’s eyes fell to where her grey high-waisted sleep shorts had lifted to reveal the succulent fold where her ass cheek meets her thigh. He’d been half asleep before that, but the tempting sight was enough to get him to set his phone down onto the nightstand and sit up taller on the bed.

“Everything alright, little bird?”

“So. Tired,” Sansa mumbled into the pillow.

“I told you I’d put Catie back to sleep.” 

“I know, but she wanted me to sing...and sing...and sing...for an hour.”

Still admiring the shape of her ass, never failing to get as hard as steel underneath the covers while studying her, he said, “I want you to sing for an hour.”

She lifted up her head and looked at him, unamused. “I haven’t showered since yesterday morning.”

“Even better.”

Sansa’s deadpan expression lasted only a few seconds longer, before a pretty laugh was passing through those even prettier lips. “You’re awful.”

“Awful, am I?” he grinned. “Would I be less awful if I take you into the shower and get you to sing for me in there?”

“Not tonight, babe,” Sansa sighed. “I’m exhausted. Your daughter is a handful.”

Sandor barked a laugh. “ _My_ daughter? Not _ours_?”

“She looks like you. She acts like you.”

It was true Catie looked like him, she had the same straight, dark hair and grey eyes, but he couldn’t agree with the second part. “She's not _that_ wild.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “I’m with her all day, everyday. Trust me, she is.”

When she dropped her head back onto the pillow, Sandor said, “Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow? I’m serious. I’ve been telling you to go out with your friends and let loose since Catie was born. Us going out on dates once a month isn’t enough, girl.”

She rolled onto her back. “I know, I know,” said Sansa, rubbing her heavy eyes. “But I’d feel guilty.”

“Guilty? What for?” Sandor turned to face her, then ran his hand down the side of her smooth, flawless face. “You’re the perfect mother, little bird, but even perfect mothers need a break. Go out tomorrow. I’ll watch Catie.”

“You work sixty hours a week,” Sansa pointed out. “You need a break, too.”

That was true, but the only break he ever needed was to be able to eat and pound what was hidden away inside Sansa’s shorts. “You work more than I do. I can handle a day alone with her.”

“A whole day?” She eyed him skeptically. “I’ve never been away from her for more than a couple hours. What if she cries for me?”

“She’ll be fine. Catie’s almost three,” he reassured her. “It'll be our first father-daughter day.”

Sansa considered that for a moment, then said, “I suppose you’re right. Brienne and I have been wanting to get together for a while now. I wonder if she’s free tomorrow.”

“Brienne....Brienne…” The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Which one is that?”

“Seriously? Brienne is Jaime’s wife. We went to their wedding!” Sansa shook her head. For whatever reason, her disbelief was making him even harder underneath the covers. “Their daughter is only a couple months younger than Catie. Maybe you and Jaime can get the girls together for a playdate while we’re out.”

Sandor stared at her, unresponsive, hoping his wife was only joking. She wasn’t, he realized to his dismay, once she furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Well?" asked Sansa.

_A full day with Jaime Lannister?_

**_Fuck._ **

He forced a smile. “Alright, little bird.”

Sansa gave him the sweetest of kisses, then grabbed her phone from the nightstand. While she was busy texting back and forth with Jaime’s wife, Sandor watched her and thought, _Anyone but Jaime. Anyone but Jaime. I’ll have a playdate with Jon Brooding Snow and his silver-haired whelp before I suffer a full day of Jaime Golden-Man Lannister._

Ten minutes later, Sansa looked at him and said, “Looks like you have a playdate with Jaime tomorrow morning.”

“Great.” **_Fuck._ ** “Is he coming here?”

“No, apparently he wants to have it at his house.”

“Fuck.”

Sansa’s smile fell. “What?”

“Nothing, girl.” _I didn’t mean to say that out loud._ “Send me their address. I can take the little one over there tomorrow.”

After she sent out a few more texts, she set her phone aside and nuzzled up against him. “How can I ever repay you?”

Sandor kissed her forehead. Two days without a shower and she still managed to smell like roses. “You don’t need to repay me. I’m her father, not a babysitter.”

All of a sudden, Sansa sat up and straddled his hips, her striking blue eyes widening once her ass brushed against his arousal underneath the covers. “Maybe I want to return the favor anyway,” she simpered, rubbing her hands up and down his chest. 

“Do you now?” he growled.

“I do.” Sansa pulled down the neckline of her tank top, allowing her breasts to spill over the front. “I’ll pay you in advance.”

Sandor emitted a guttural groan, his hands mapping over every inch of her thighs. “Then I better do a good...are your tits bigger?”

His wife leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “Do you want me to sing for you or not?”

* * *

Jaime Lannister lived a whole-ass hour away.

And, for fifty-five minutes of that hour, Catie had been asking if they were there yet.

To top it all off, it was raining. Not just raining, but storming like a motherfucker. His first instinct was to call Sansa and vent to her, to hear her voice, knowing it’d calm him down, but he’d be damned if he ruined her day of fun. 

Brienne had come by first thing that morning to pick her up. One would have thought Sansa was leaving for months, judging by the way she had everything organized and ready to go for Catie’s playdate later that morning. 

“I packed her an extra outfit and shoes just in case she gets messy,” Sansa had said before she left. “Oh, and her little black hound. She’ll never take her nap without it. Text me if you need anything or, you know, you just want to let me know how it’s going.”

“Everything will be fine, little bird,” he had reassured her. But as he turned onto the private road on the outskirts of the city in the worst storm he had seen since he was a boy, Sandor started to grossly regret uttering those words.

He arrived at Jaime Lannister's house.

It wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. _Of fucking course_. And the Lannister’s white-marble mansion was gated with two obscene golden statues of lions posted on either side. Sandor chuckled wryly at the sight and pressed the red button on the call box. “Lannister, open your gate!” It was raining sideways, soaking the interior of his truck. “Seven hells!”

“Sewwen hells!” Catie repeated with equal passion.

“Shit, don’t say that,” he blurted out.

**_Fuck._ **

Sandor quickly met his daughter’s gaze in the rearview mirror, their grey eyes staring at one another, and watched as she smiled before saying, “Shit, no say dat.”

_And there it goes, right in the long term memory._

“Clegane!” the unmistakable vexing voice of Jaime Lannister called out through the speaker of the call box. “Come on in, man!” There was a jarring beep, one which made Sandor curse again (and Catie promptly repeating), followed by the gates parting open. 

At the end of the extravagant driveway was the extravagant house, flanked on either side by sentinels and ironwoods - non-native and _expensive_ trees.

After parking, Sandor quickly stepped out of his truck and took Catie out of her car seat before they’d be soaked from head to toe. Sansa had mentioned something about bringing an umbrella, he suddenly recalled, but that must have been when he was watching her struggle to get on her bra that morning.

Her breasts _were_ bigger.

As he held Catie and waited underneath the awning outside the front door, since Jaime decided not to have the damn thing open for them, she tugged on his hair and said, “Daddy, I want braid.”

“I thought you wanted your hair down.”

“I want braid!”

 _Seven hells._ “Can you say please?”

Catie huffed. “....Pwease.”

Sandor bent down to set her on her feet, then took off the hair tie Sansa had placed on his wrist. “She’ll want a braid later, even if she wants to wear her hair down in the morning,” she had told him. As always, his wife was right.

He wasn’t as good as Sansa when it came to braiding hair, but he wasn’t awful either. It would have been easier if his fingers weren’t so long and thick. That, and if Catie would hold still without turning her head at every strike of thunder. She was humming a familiar little tune as he did it, one of the many songs Sansa sang to her regularly. 

As mundane as they might seem, these were his favorite moments. 

_I’ll fucking die for this girl._

As soon as he finished, the front door opened wide.

Sandor met those green eyes in the doorway and frowned. “What took you so long?”

“How long has it been, Clegane?” Jaime grinned. "Since the wedding?"

“Not long enough.”

Jaime laughed, as if it were a friendly joke and not the absolute truth. He looked down and nearly stumbled back; Sandor wished he had.

“Gods, she’s your twin. Well, with a much cuter nose and a full face.” Before Sandor could deck him right in his perfect teeth, Jaime knelt down in front of her. “What’s your name?”

“Her name’s Catelyn.”

“No, no Catwyn,” she shouted. “Catie!”

Sandor sighed, then added, “But we call her Catie.”

“She has your temperament, too,” Jaime quipped over a rumble of thunder. “Come in. This storm isn’t letting up.”

The monster of a house was more welcoming inside than it was out. Jaime’s wife must have been the one in charge of the interior decorating; a humble woman from what he could remember, which was very little.

Standing quietly at the bottom of the gated stairs with her hands folded in front of her was Jaime’s daughter. She had soft golden curls and, when she finally looked up, he noticed she had the same green Lannister eyes as her father.

Jaime took her hand and brought her forward. “Clegane, this is my daughter, Alys.”

Catie walked right up to her and said, “Hi!”

Alys dropped her head again, so shy. 

“Are you sure she’s a Lannister?” Sandor asked, returning the slight. “I’ve never met one so quiet.”

“The storm scares her.” _That, or my scars,_ Sandor thought. Jaime knelt down in front of his daughter. “Alys, this is Catie. Do you want to show her the playroom?”

“A _playroom_ ,” Sandor scoffed. “Which number room is that?”

“The twentieth,” Jaime replied curtly.

Alys’ face lit up at the mention. “Yay! Play!” she squealed, and then the two girls took off running down the hall, side-by-side. 

They followed behind. 

“It's like looking into a mirror,” Jaime said wistfully, “if that mirror turned our image into toddler girls. Think they’ll get along as well as we did?”

Sandor guffawed. “I hope not.”

“What? I remember us being good friends when we were children.”

“Good friends who got into too much trouble,” Sandor said, while surveying the house. “Like when we tossed Tywin’s golf clubs into the lake as an offering to the Drowned God after Euron told us he’d eat us in our sleep if we didn’t.”

Jaime’s laughter rang throughout the never ending hall. “I remember. Or that one time we wrote a love letter to Rhaegar and said it was from Cersei. Gods, she hated us after that!”

He couldn’t refrain from emitting a chuckle. “If they’re anything like we were, we won’t survive this playdate.” 

Sure enough, in the twentieth room, a clear glass door led into a playroom twice the size of Sandor’s kitchen. There were slides and ladders, a small trampoline, and just about every toy you could think of. There was even a sandbox. _A sandbox._

Naturally, because it was the messiest place to go, that’s where Catie went first.

“This isn’t a playroom. This is an amusement park.”

Jaime shrugged. “Alys gets bored easily.”

Sandor rolled his eyes and sat on the bench. _A bench. In a playroom._ “Don’t justify your extravagant spending to me. I know it’s what you Lannisters are good for.”

Jaime sat beside him and said, “I’m much better now than I was before I met Brienne.”

They watched their daughters play together, first in the godforsaken sandbox, then in a pit of foam blocks so deep they could swim in it. The girls were getting along great, and no longer was Jaime’s daughter as shy as before. The thunderstorm worsened, causing the lights to flicker more than once, but neither Catie nor Alice seemed to pay it any attention. Sandor took out his phone to take a picture of the girls playing, but as soon as Catie saw him doing so, she yelled, “No, daddy! No picture!”

He took it anyway, despite her scowl, and sent it to Sansa.

A minute later, Sansa texted, _‘My baby_ 😍😍😍 _’,_ followed by sending another text of an image of her inside a fitting room, wearing a red, lacey bra, with the caption, _‘For my other baby_ 😉 _’._

**_Fuck yes._ **

Sandor noticed Jaime looking over at his phone and turned it off. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Jaime snorted. “Nothing. I just hope Brienne buys a pair. I’ve never known her to shop at ‘Ashara’s Secret’.”

Sandor thought about decking him again, but was prevented from doing so when Catie ran up and climbed onto his lap. Her braid had fallen out, her face was flushed, and there was sand all over her. So much sand. “Daddy, I want fooooood.” 

Jaime looked at his extravagant watch inside his extravagant twentieth room. “It’s an hour before noon.” He picked up Alys and sat her on his knee. “That’s late enough for lunch right?”

His brows knitted in a frown. “You don’t know what time your daughter eats lunch?”

“Well, Brienne usually makes lunch.”

“Seven he-” He caught himself before he’d curse again in front of the toddlers. “Girls, what do you want to eat?”

“No!” They answered at the same time.

“You just told me you wanted food!” Sandor said, incredulous.

“No, daddy!" Catie whined. "I want play!”

“Let me try, Clegane.” Jaime cleared his throat. “Alys and Catie, what do your little hearts desire for lunch?”

“Sanwish!” Alys answered at once.

Catie squealed with delight. “Yay! Sanwish.”

“That was easy enough,” Jaime said smugly. “I’m practically Father of the Year.”

Sandor rolled his eyes until it hurt. “Make the sandwiches then, _Father of the Year_.”

And so he did, inside the largest, most modern kitchen Sandor had ever seen, two simple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was the best lunch two girls of three years old could hope for, judging by their clapping and excitement.

Until they sat at the table. 

Catie took one bite and grimaced. “Daddy, it hot!”

“ _Hot?_ It’s bread!” Sandor told her, exasperated. “You wanted it, so you need to eat it.”

“Hot!” Alys concurred, shoving the plate away. “Ew!”

"Ew!" Catie threw hers onto the floor. “Pisa! I want pisa!”

“Pisa!” Alys agreed, looking at her father. “Daddy! Pisa!”

Jaime sat there at the table, rubbing his temples. “Let’s just order a pizza, man.”

Sandor shook his head. “No, no, no. They need to eat what you made them. We can’t let them start bossing us around.”

Catie looked up at him, her little grey eyes filling with tears, and said, “Daddy, _pwease_.”

Forty five minutes later, the girls were dining on a hot pepperoni pizza. The only complaint Sandor heard from his daughter during lunch was that he gave her the wrong colored plate - she _needed_ purple instead of pink. She absolutely _needed_ it. He gave into that demand, too, once her bottom lip rolled out and her eyes threatened to shed tears again.

And then, after they ate and cleaned up, it was noon.

 _Naptime_. 

_Thank the gods,_ Sandor thought, until Catie and Alys ran throughout the massive house at the first mention of going to sleep. It took nearly ten minutes to catch them, since they could hide under tables and beds and blankets. Both he and Jaime were sweating by the end of _that_ game.

After tucking the girls into Alys’ bed (which was _stupidly_ large for a toddler bed, much like everything else inside Jaime’s stupidly extravagant house) and handing them their stuffed animals (Alys' was a lion, and Catie's was a black hound Sansa made sure to pack), Jaime gave him a wary look. “We should stay in here until they’re asleep.”

Exhausted, Sandor said, “What? No. They’ll fall asleep on their own.”

Jaime ran a hand through his hair. “I’m telling you, man, this girl will scream her head off for hours if I leave.”

“That’s how they learn!” Sandor raised his voice. That made the girls giggle. “Gods, you can’t cater to a child’s every whim.”

“I want water! Pwease, Daddy!” Catie begged. “Water!”

A minute later, Sandor was handing each of the girls a sippy cup full of iced water. 

“Now listen, Lannister. We’re going to turn on that fancy camera of yours up there on the ceiling and watch the girls from a different room.”

“Bye bye, daddy!” Alys said, waving with her sippy cup.

Sandor gestured to her. “See, she wants you to leave.”

“She doesn’t usually,” Jaime said, sounding heartbroken. 

Sandor rolled his eyes again and bent down to give Catie a kiss. She sat up and kissed his scarred cheek. She only ever wanted to kiss his scars. “Night night, daddy.”

"I love you more than life," he whispered.

She giggled, as cute as ever. "Funny daddy."

"Sleep well, my princess," Jaime said to his daughter. "Remember, a Lannister always takes her naps."

Sandor rolled his eyes so hard, he could see the back of his skull. "Are you fu-". He stopped himself again, then walked away and picked up the monitor from on top of the dresser. While he and Jaime were exiting the room, there was a loud roll of thunder. Sandor looked over his shoulder to see if it had frightened the girls, but they did nothing but hold their animals with a smile on their face. Jaime slowly but surely closed the door to the bedroom, all without hearing a single cry coming from the other side.

_Thanks the gods._

Afterward, they took what felt like a two-minute stroll into the living room where a gigantic crimson sectional and eighty-eight inch 8K Smart OLED TV was calling his name.

Sandor sat down and kicked up his feet on the table. Once he turned on the monitor and saw both girls in bed and cuddling with their animals, he set it aside and turned on the TV.

While scrolling through the channels, Jaime sat beside him and said, “So, are you and Sansa going to have any more?”

“Ask me that question when I don’t have sweat dripping down my ass from running after the one I do have.”

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. “Brienne said something not too long ago about wanting Alys to have a sibling someday.”

“Siblings are overrated," Sandor grumbled.

"Why do you- oh, that's right," Jaime eyed him with his green, smug eyes. "The _brother_. You didn't have a good experience with siblings, did you?"

Just when Sandor set down the remote to deck him, Jaime shouted at the TV, "Fuck! Is there a match on today?!"

“Shut your fucking mouth!" Sandor upbraided him through clenched teeth. "If you wake them up, I’ll toss you out into the storm. You can yell at those golden lions you have outside your gate.”

“The girls can’t hear us from here. Look." When Jaime grabbed the monitor from the table, his eyes doubled in size. “Oh, Seven fuck me.”

Sandor's blood ran cold. “What?"

He turned the monitor around. Tucked into the stupidly large toddler bed was not two little girls, but two stuffed animals: a lion and a hound.

_**FUCK.** _

Sandor jumped off the couch and lumbered down the hall. Within seconds, they were inside Alys' room. He checked under the bed, Jaime checked inside the closet, they even looked underneath a massive pile of stuffed animals in the far end of the room, all to no avail. 

After exiting the room to continue their search, checking inside every closed room as it began to storm harder outside, Sandor turned to Jaime, seething. “You would have a house large enough for our daughters to get lost in!”

Jaime checked inside the spacious laundry room - nothing. “They’re not lost, Clegane. They’re hiding.”

“Say one more stupid thing. I dare you.”

“They can’t get out of the house," Jaime told him, as they turned down a second never ending hallway. "The doors are child-proof and the stairs are blocked.”

"I don't put anything past my daughter. Not anymore."

When they saw it, they stopped at once. Along the eggshell colored walls were two colored lines that extended all the way down the hall: on the left side was a red line, and on the right side was a yellow line.

He and Jaime exchanged a look.

“They’re giving us clues," Jaime whispered.

“They’re three!” Sandor continued down the hallway, never skipping a single room. “Gods, how big is this fucking house?”

“Excuse me for being successful, Clegane.”

Sandor laughed and choked at the same time. “Is that what you call your father dying and leaving you a third of his fortune? Being successful?”

“ _Half_ of his fortune,” Jaime corrected him, as he looked underneath the bed of the fifth guest room. “He left Tyrion out of his will.”

Sandor snorted. “Why am I not surprised? Guess Tywin didn’t want him blowing it all in strip clubs.”

“Luckily for the strippers, I was generous enough to give my little brother a portion of mine. You know Cersei wasn't going to give him any of hers.”

“Of course not."

They made it to the end of the hall where the crayon trail ended and turned left towards the adjacent hallway. Sandor immediately heard giggling coming from behind one of the closed doors. 

As soon as he took a step forward, the power went out, followed by a loud strike of thunder.

Jaime stood there, unmoving. “Am I the only one scared for my life right now?”

Sandor hesitated, listening closer to the two unseen giggling girls. “No.”

Four doors down, they found where the naughty duo was hidden. Of course, the door was locked. And, of course, Jaime had no idea where to find the key.

"It's a bathroom," Jaime told him.

"The twentieth?" Sandor asked sarcastically, then pressed his ear to the door. As soon as he did, he heard his devious daughter say, “Alys, my phone.”

**_Phone?_ **

At once, Sandor felt his front and back pockets.

Empty. He was phoneless.

 _My daughter is a pickpocket._

As if that weren't horrifying enough, Sandor heard a faucet turn on.

His patience was lost. “Catelyn Jeyne Clegane, open this door right now!”

“No, tank you," she responded over the running water.

Jaime found that amusing and said, “At least she’s courteous. She must get _that_ from her mother.”

Sandor placed his hand on the doorknob, preparing to tear it right off. “Catie, you have to the count of three to open this door. One….two…”

“Threeeee, fourrrrr, fiveeeee,” Catie giggled.

Jaime laughed, too, until he heard his daughter say. “Caite, cran. Cran!”

“Alysanne Joanna Lannister! No more crayons! Don’t you dare color on those walls!”

“Say pwease," demanded Catie.

Jaime’s mouth dropped open. “They want us to beg.”

“This is madness! We are not going to beg our own daughters!” Sandor turned the handle with all his might. It was no use. Even the doorknobs were high quality as fuck and wouldn't break easily. He'd need to pick the lock. 

More splashing noises followed. “Daddy, phone doing bafftime.”

Sandor panicked. “Please, Catie. Open the door! _Please_!”

The faucet turned off. “Ok, daddy.”

The moment he heard the lock turn, Sandor turned the knob and swung open the door. There was no light since the power was out, but the glass stained window gave them enough light to assess the damage. 

Catie had flipped over a small trash can and used it as a stepping stool to access the sink where Sandor's phone was, indeed, doing bathtime. Alys had the red crayon in her left hand and had gone batshit crazy on the ivory colored wall with it. When Jaime took a quick step forward to remove it from her hand, he slipped (neither of them saw the soap that had been spread on the tile floor beforehand) and landed on his ass.

“Seven hells!” Jaime cried out.

“Sewwen hells!” the girls repeated together, then skipped right around the puddle of soap and exited the bathroom.

Sandor took light steps toward the sink and removed his phone from the water. As he held it up, watching it drip, he found that it was unsresponsive to his touch. "Fuck."

“Brienne will kill me if she repeats that,” Jaime muttered as he stood from the floor, bleeding from his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue during the fall.

“You think Sansa won’t do the same? Do you know how many times she has gotten onto me about cursing in front of Catie?”

“Yeah, but Sansa is smaller than you. You have a chance....I don’t.”

“Small, but feisty. The next time my cock is in her mouth, she’ll bite it clean off.”

“At least you’ll get that much,” Jaime grumbled.

After waiting sweetly inside the hall, Catie came up to the doorway and said, “Daddy, I sweepy.”

"Nap nap, daddy," Alys said, yawning.

_Thank the gods._

Deciding to clean the mess up later before their wives would come back that evening, they took the girls back into the bedroom and tucked them in bed with the lion and the hound.

That time when Jaime said, “Let’s stay in here with them," Sandor responded with, “No shit,” and then crawled into the stupidly large toddler bed beside their sleepy daughters.

The four of them fell asleep to the sound of distant thunder and falling rain.

Some time later, Sandor awoke to the sound of a camera shutter, followed by the softest pair of giggles. He initially assumed it was Catie, but it couldn’t be; she was still laying on his arm.

Or so he thought. Whatever was laying on his arm, it wasn’t Catie, not unless she had become five times heavier over the course of their nap.

Sandor opened his eyes and saw nothing but golden hair. When he looked down, he observed Jaime's ass inches away from his groin.

He pushed him away at once. “Get off me!”

Standing beside the bed, Sansa and Brienne had their phones in their hand, in absolute stitches, while Alys and Catie stirred awake at the foot of the stupidly large toddler bed. 

Jaime looked over his shoulder. “Were you _spooning_ me, Clegane?” he asked drowsily.

“Are you so used to being the little spoon, Lannister?”

Jaime had the grace to blush, but never said a word. 

While their wives continued to laugh aloud and wipe the tears from their eyes, the girls sat up on the bed and said, “Mommy!”

Sansa picked up Catie in her arms. “Did you have fun with your daddy?”

She nodded rapidly. "Daddy phone did bafftime."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Sandor said at once. "You two are back early."

Brienne picked up Alys and kissed her on the top of her golden head. “We were anxious to get back. We have something for the two of you.” She squinted at Jaime. “Is that _blood_ on your lip?”

Jaime looked side to side. “No.”

While still holding onto Catie, Sansa reached into her purse and handed him and Jaime each a little brown bag.

Sandor's palms were sweating. “What is this, little bird?”

“Open it up and see,” she said, biting her lower lip.

In unison, he and Jaime opened up the bags and pulled out two little shirts that were much too small for their daughters.

“Surprise!” Sansa exclaimed with giddy excitement.

Jaime gave him a perplexed frown. “What are we looking at?”

Brienne gave Jaime such an irked look that Sandor thought he might get decked that day after all. “We were going to surprise you individually, but when we found out we were both expecting, we thought we’d do it together.”

“Expecting?” Sandor stammered, looking at Sansa's bigger tits. “Expecting what?”

“A baby!" Sansa revealed with glee. "We’re pregnant! Brienne and I are both due in the winter!” 

He and Jaime looked at one another in total bewilderment.

“Did you hear that, Catie and Alys?" asked Brienne, smiling. "You’re each going to have a sibling.”

Together, the little girls grimaced and said, “Sewwen hells.”

**_Fuck._ **

There was fire in Sansa’s eyes and daggers in Brienne’s.

Sandor and Jaime jumped out of the stupidly large toddler bed and darted down the never ending hallway.


End file.
